


you be tybalt and i’ll be meructio

by forcevalentine



Series: but you die [2]
Category: Romeo And Juliet - All Media Types, Romeo And Juliet - Shakespeare
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Bullying, Enemies to Lovers, Gay, Gen, I'm Bad At Tagging, I'm Going to Hell, I'm Not Ashamed, Implied Italian, Implied Language, Implied Relationships, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Non-Graphic Violence, Part Two, Pre-Relationship, Slow To Update, Sorry Not Sorry, Still Tagged as Graphic, Teen Angst, Teen Crush, Teen Years, Teenagers, Years Later, tycutio - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-28
Updated: 2020-10-28
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:14:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27184351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/forcevalentine/pseuds/forcevalentine
Relationships: Juliet Capulet & Tybalt, Mercutio & Paris & Valentine (Romeo and Juliet), Mercutio & Valentine, Mercutio/Benvolio Montague, Mercutio/Tybalt (Romeo and Juliet), Paris & Valentine (Romeo and Juliet), Rosaline & Tybalt (Romeo and Juliet), Tybalt & Juliet & Rosaline
Series: but you die [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1884727
Comments: 3
Kudos: 26





	you be tybalt and i’ll be meructio

He feels his tooth come loose in his mouth before he ever registers the fact that he has been hit in the jaw. And while the feeling is not new -- his uncle is one for corporal punishments, losing a tooth is almost painless compared to what his uncle has done in the past -- he is still angry. But it seems that is all Tybalt Capulet at the age of thirteen knows, anger. 

He turns his head to spit out the recently dislodged tooth, and swears in English -- a language the rest of the surrounding group has just begun to learn -- when he sees it on the ground of the alleyway.

He swears quietly, in English as he turns back to face Valentine Escalus. Though just as he has brought his eyes back onto the older boy something hits him in the stomach. And it is not until he falls onto his back that he realizes Romeo has charged him -- head down, headbutting him in the stomach so hard that it makes Tybalt feel as though he might throw up -- and is no longer sitting on the sidelines with his cousin and friend.

And because he knows if he doesn’t do something soon -- and he doesn’t want to lose  _ another _ tooth -- he panics and does the one thing he was always told to  _ never _ do in a fight.

He spits in Romeo’s face.

And as the boy, who is ever so slightly older, yet  _ much _ taller, and  _ much _ broader than Tyablt, tries to process what is in his eye, Tybalt takes the moment to shove Romeo off of him and roll out of his grasp.

Of the four younger boys, he is the smallest. 

Even Benvolio, who is ever so slightly  _ younger _ than Tybalt stands nearly a full head taller than him. But being smaller is an advantage; he is more agile, and he is quicker than the rest. Though, he has been fencing since before he started going to confession, and that is the reason he is quick on his feet. 

He is small, agile, and fast, and because of this the Montagues and their friends call him  _ The King of Cats. _

But Valentine is not thirteen or fourteen. Valentine is nearly seventeen and is much taller than Tybalt. And while Tybalt can outrun Romeo by miles, Valentine can easily catch up with him. Valentine is not a head taller, but nearly  _ three _ heads taller, and has more experience than Tybalt could imagine in street fights. 

Valentine doesn’t care about playing by some meaningless rules of honor made centuries ago by men who are long dead. Growing up in a high society house did not mean Valentine cared to follow the same rules of dignity Tybalt did.

Though, could Tybalt really say he cared? Or had it just been beaten into him that he ought to pretend like he did?

“Just take it back Tybalt,” to Tybalt’s surprise, it’s Mercutio who pleads to him. As he is standing, looking out of breath, his mouth bleeding, and his jaw bruising, he is dazed by the idea.

He stands there, stunned, because to him Mercutio’s voice is the finest melody the Earth has ever been blessed to hear, and he could listen to it for days on end; and Mercutio’s eyes hold the same beauty as a well crafted sunset that Tybalt finds himself lucky to even fall under the gaze in a scrutinizing way; and because of this to hear the implication that someone even half as divine as Mercutio cares about  _ him _ makes his heart skip a beat.

But then his uncle’s promise of hellfire fills his ears, drowning out Mercutio’s voice; and he can only think about the aftermath of these thoughts and how he will never be allowed into heaven for finding another man so sweetly divine that Tybalt finds  _ him _ a far more interesting subject for art than any God could ever be. And his heart stops dead in his chest and his breathing quickens as if he has just run the length of Italy as fast as he could, and he feels his chest begin to tighten as the sudden urge to confess for thinking such a thing about Mercutio washes over him.

“Why would I take it back? It’s true,” he argues bitterly, and just barely notices Valentine advancing on him.

And because there is enough  _ fear _ of the older boy there, Tybalt begins to scramble backwards.

But he does not make it far before Valentine reaches down and makes him stand up. 

“Listen,” Valentine begins, in a voice that is solemn, and serves as a drastic contrast from his normally jocose one, “Just apologize to them for what you said, Capulet.”

And for a moment he does consider apologizing.

Apologizing for what he said in a moment of jealousy; jealous that Mercutio was so willing to openly admit that he liked men, jealous that Mercutio did not like him but rather Benvolio Montague instead. 

But before he can say anything, Paris (who is older than even Valentine and has been watching out for adults with such authority as his father) speaks up, “Drop him Val. He isn’t worth it; you know how the Capulets are.”

And Tybalt feels his stomach twist into a knot; he hates being compared to his uncle.

“Did you hear what he fucking said, Paris?” Valentine asks, the anger rising back into his voice as he lets go of Tybalt to face his cousin.

“I heard just as clearly as you did; but it doesn’t  _ matter _ . Merc isn’t upset about it, and all you’re doing is upsetting him and Benvolio. You’re nearly  _ grown _ Valentine, leave it for them to settle,” Paris argues back.

And while they are distracted Tybalt begins to take his slow retreat to the exit of the alleyway.

“Being a  _ child _ doesn’t give him an excuse to be a  _ prick _ to  _ other _ children,” he hears Valentine yell.

“Then let his uncle deal with him! Who are you to punish another man’s child when you are still a child yourself?” he hears Paris retort.

But then he feels himself back into a person, and he fears for the worst -- that it’s Romeo back up to fight.

But he sees Romeo sitting on the ground, staring at Valentine and Paris in the manner one stares at a school teacher when their peers are being lectured; and the body he has backed into is smaller than his own.

“What are you doing?” 

Tybalt recognizes the voice instantly.

Rosaline.

And the yelling stops and suddenly everyone -- Capulets, Montagues, and Escalus alike -- has their attention locked on the petite form of Rosaline; who stands holding Juliet’s hand as though she still needs someone to. 

And none of the boys say anything; just stand staring at twelve year old Rosaline as though she holds any real authority in the streets of Fair Verona.

As the silence buzzes through the air, Rosaline can only stand, looking stunned at her cousin and the other boys she has known practically her entire life.

“I don’t care  _ what _ feud there is. If your parents,” she says, looking at Romeo sharply, “can treat my aunt and uncle like  _ human beings _ then you’d ought to be able to treat each  _ other _ civilly.” 

“Rosa, it’s not about-,” Tybalt begins to explain, explain that this is not the fault of the feud but rather his own fault for saying such an awful thing to Mercutio for simply dating another boy, but his cousin turns to him next.

“I don’t  _ care, _ Tybalt. Whatever  _ it’s about _ you haven’t got any right to beat each other senseless in an alleyway.  _ Look at you! _ ” 

More silence buzzes through the alleyway, before she turns next to Valentine to say, “Aren’t you supposed to be an adult? The heir to your father’s name? What kind of example are you setting by beating a  _ child _ ? And what’s your excuse? You aren’t a part of the feud- if anything your family has been trying to end it since it began!”

Before Valentine can speak -- and by the look on his face he has a lot to say to Rosaline -- Benvolio speaks up.

“She’s right, you know? The feud is silly. Isn’t it point-”

“The feud is  _ not _ pointless. If the Capulets hadn’t  _ stolen  _ from us, everything would be fine,” Romeo cuts in, effectively cutting his cousin’s statement short.

“Romeo, that was  _ centuries _ ago. Is it  _ really _ still important?” Mercutio asks -- and again, when he speaks Tybalt looks at him as though there were no other noise, nor any other boy, in the whole plane of existence.

“Yes!” Romeo shouts, voice reverberating from the back wall of the alley; and Tyablt watches as the older Escalus boys pick up their things and begin to slowly slip away from the scene. Valentine still looking rather offended by what Rosaline said about him, and Paris saying something under his breath that Tybalt assumes is meant to be reassuring.

And while the Montagues and Mercutio argue amongst themselves, Tybalt feels a hand grab his own and looks down to see that Juliet has taken his hand in her own, the one not holding Rosaline’s hand.

“Let’s go,” she whispers.

And Tybalt allows her and Rosaline to take him away from the alley, and the last traces of the fight. 

And the boy he said he would marry six years ago. 

*** . * . * . * . * . * . * . ***

“Tybalt,” Juliet says to him later when they come back to search for the tooth he lost; on the advice from Juliet’s nanny that if he wanted something done about it he’d better locate the tooth quickly.

“Yes?” Tybalt asks as he paces the length of the alleyway, his head down so that dark hair covers his eyes, using the matches he stole from his uncle’s desk as light since they couldn’t find a flashlight.

“How old is Romeo?” She asks him, and instantly Tybalt snaps his head back up. And for a moment he understands why Valentine was so angry earlier; angry enough to pick a fight with a much younger boy. Because he feels that same protective urge now as Juliet asks this question.

“Too old for  _ you _ , Little Cousin,” Tyablt says, before going back to his search for his tooth.

“I wasn’t asking for  _ me _ ! I was asking for Rosaline,” Juliet protested, crossing her arms. 

But Tybalt knows she’s lying. If not by the way her voice raises in pitch, or how she stomps one foot on the ground, then by the fact that he knows Rosaline has rejected Romeo exactly eighty-seven times in just this school year alone.

“Sure, Jules,” he says absently.

“Do you have a crush on anyone, Tybalt?” Juliet asks him suddenly, as he drops to his knees to pat the ground.

And for a moment, Tybalt has to think about it. Because while the obvious answer is  _ yes _ he knows he cannot confess such a sin here, to his cousin. While the obvious answer is  _ yes _ he instead tells his cousin, in the dying match light, “No.”


End file.
